Malleable
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot In the darkness, he can face her.


Title: Malleable  
Summary: In the darkness, he can face her.  
Characters: John, Teyla  
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan.  
Rating: K  
Spoilers: Season 4.

He remembered hearing someone calling his name. He remembered hearing the frantic tone of numerous voices above him. He remembered flashes of light as he'd hovered somewhere between darkness and light. He remembered snippets of sound; voices, beeps, bangs, whizzing. He remembered touches and brushes of skin against skin as he was manoeuvred from one place to another. He remembered someone calling his name.

When he managed to crawl from the darkness that had kept him captive for who knew how long, he'd been alone in a dull, quiet infirmary. His eyes had slid shut again and when they reopened, he was still alone but the infirmary was bustling with people and light. He squinted against it as it pierced the back of his eyes fiercely. He coughed and he felt something tear down his side and he groaned in pain, his left hand reaching over to press against where he assumed his wound was. When his fingers brushed against it, he hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

His eyes slid shut again and he welcomed the pain free darkness.

Next time, he wasn't alone but the infirmary was dim once more. His eyes fell to the figure lying uncomfortably against the side of his bed and he frowned slightly. His foggy brain wouldn't process what he was seeing and he shuffled slightly, shaking his head trying to dislodge some of his fuzziness.

"Teyla," he croaked, his throat protesting at the use but she didn't stir. He tried to lift his arm and touch her somewhere but it felt like a dead weight and he groaned in pain as he jarred another injury. He stilled as he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and he slipped back into his slumber.

A few weeks later, when he opened his eyes, the room was bright from the sunlight sweeping in his window and he blinked, rolling his neck. His room was empty and he was glad. Since he'd woken up a couple of weeks before in the infirmary and managed to stay awake long enough for someone to actually realise that he was awake, he'd not been left alone. Even Rodney had visited him on his own two crutches, the look of guilt never leaving the mobile man's face. Then there had been the briefings and meetings and appointments with Halcyon, the new psychiatric doctor. He'd been glad even to need the toilet, so he could be alone even if only for a few moments.

His injuries had apparently been pretty bad. He'd bled out for a long time, lost far too much blood from the slit in his side that the natives had tried to pull his insides out through. His leg had been broken in three places from when he'd tumbled down the hillside in his rush to escape his captors. The fracture in his skull had required him to have brain surgery to remove a clot – he raised his hand to his newly growing hair and only managed to keep back the ridiculous pout at the loss of his hair. His dislocated shoulder and broken scapula had been the least of his worries, it'd seemed.

Rodney, of course, blamed himself because he hadn't been able to get the 'Gate working quickly enough. Ronon had blamed himself because he'd grabbed Rodney and jumped through the 'Gate as John had ordered before it had shut down, leaving him alone on a planet full of Neanderthal savages that would quite happily have ripped him apart if it hadn't been for the appearance of the Daedalus in orbit almost a day later.

And Teyla. He gripped onto the basin in front of him and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He hadn't seen Teyla since the night he vaguely remembered waking up and she was sleeping on the bed beside him. He'd been told – by whom, he couldn't quite remember – that she'd gone to visit her people with Kanan in preparation for giving birth to her second child. Initially, he'd felt slighted; he wanted to see her – no, he _needed _to see her, to reassure himself that she was okay. His misplaced, drug induced anger towards her had ended with him murmuring to the empty air around him that it was unfair that he was always there for her when she needed him, yet when he needed her, she was gone. He still felt the residual energy of that anger as he scrubbed at his still bruised face. But then he had to feel content in the knowledge that she'd been there with him for one night at least when she should have been in bed with _him_.

He didn't like to think of himself as a jealous man and he really had no reason to be. He knew what Teyla meant to him and as time passed, those feelings had begun to change again – to accept her as the friend that she was. But the part of him that still harboured those kind of feelings for her held up its' hands in acknowledgement of the fact that it may have made John smile smugly when he realised she'd been there with him instead of with her husband.

He peeled off his shirt gently trying not to tug at his stitches; he'd already pulled them out twice already and he was pretty sure Keller wouldn't be too happy if he did it again. He'd managed to manoeuvre it over his shoulders when the door chimes echoed through the room. He was tempted to ignore the call – and he certainly would have – if the person hadn't chimed again and then entered without his permission.

Then he saw her, her silhouette outlined by the shards of disappearing light splitting the darkness of his sleeping room. He froze as his eyes met hers in the mirror and for a moment all thought fled from his mind as her eyes began to drift down his body. Then the city, ever responsive to his every whim, plunged the room into darkness before he'd even managed to conjure the thought.

"John..." she chastised gently as she fumbled around the room.

He could hear her clatter against something and he conceded, raising the lights enough for her to move around. If she hadn't been pregnant, he would not have been so easily moved. He dropped his hands to the basin again and leaned against it for support, his head coming to land on the cool mirror. He jerked slightly as a chill ran through his body, shuddering as it tingled down his back. He heard her sit on the toilet seat and he angled his head slightly in her direction. She was bigger than she had been the last time he had seen her and he pursed his lips at that. He knew that pregnant women changed quickly during their nine month cycle but seeing her so different only reinforced the knowledge that he hadn't seen her in almost a month; that she hadn't been there for him.

He closed his eyes as he pulled his head away from the mirror but he didn't loosen his grip on the sink; if anything, it tightened when he felt her hand on his thigh. He inhaled deeply, silently and let go with one hand, scrubbing it through his hair, down his still damp face and turned his body towards hers. In the darkness, he could face her. His eyes took in her form and whatever light there was drifting in from the slowly setting sun caught the band around her finger. He felt an unnameable tug and he slumped against the wall not far behind him, folding his arms.

"I have been with my people." He nodded mutely and watched as her hands fiddled with one another, the fingers of her right hand moving to twist the band on her left.

Seeing it there at that moment was affecting him more than it ever had before and he hated the feeling. He leaned his head back against the wall, stared at the corner of the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes.

He wasn't used to needing her like this.

"I can't..." He opened his eyes when she faltered and saw that she was staring at his half exposed body again, guilt marring her features. She stood up and the lights rose again slightly. She reached for the medical kit on the small table next to the sink and looked at John expectantly. He returned her gaze and pursed his lips, wondering if this was the best move he could make. He lowered his eyes from hers and pushed off from the wall. He tugged the shirt the rest of the way off his body without her help; removing his clothes was something far too intimate for him to allow her to do. As she cleaned the space around the stitches with calculated gentleness, he watched her hands move delicately over the wound, shaking every few seconds when they retracted from the mess. When he saw her lip disappear between her teeth, he looked to the wall on the opposite side of the room. "I..." she trailed off again, her fingers stilling somewhere over his stomach. "I miss going on missions."

John frowned at the quietness of her voice and tried to calm his breathing as her fingers skimmed the skin at the edge of his waistband. The antiseptic was beginning to nip his wound and he wanted her to both keep stroking his gently, but wash the antiseptic away. Her words tugged at his heart once more and glanced down, but didn't move.

"You haven't been on active duty for nearly two years."

He didn't know what the point in reminding her of this fact was but it seemed to trigger something inside of her and she stood up from her crouched position and dampened a cloth before dabbing the slice again. He hissed in pain as she pressed a little too firmly and she stilled, her fearful eyes reaching his.

"I... I'm sorry." He nodded, keeping his eyes on hers, his hands fluttering at his sides, asking permission to touch her. He denied it and she looked away, licking her lips. "I... That I wasn't there for you." He saw her inhale a breath and he didn't know what to say. Ridiculously, he _wanted _her to apologise, to feel guilty for leaving him alone in the infirmary when it was obvious he would need her. "I feel I should have been with you on the mission... Not knowing what had happened to you..." She shook her head again and a sheen appeared in her eyes. He licked his own lips and glanced away from her, his heart rate increasing. "I should have been there." Her voice was logged with tears and he turned his eyes back to her, his hands betraying their orders and rising to cover her shuddering fingers.

"You're here now."

She glanced up at him then, there eyes fixed on one another, neither willing to look away. He felt something inside of him welling up, trying to burst through his lips, to immerse itself in her but he buried it deep, deep down and drew her electrified body to his, her belly clashing with his hard chest. As he held her tightly, he squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head, lowering his six foot two frame so he could his nose into her hair, hide the sudden tears in his eyes from the world. The bruises on his body throbbed at the pressure against them but holding her in his arms was worth the pain.

When she pulled back, her face was wet and she lifted her hands up to her face and chuckled slightly as she palmed the wetness away.

"Hormones," John muttered good naturedly and used her distraction to swipe at his own eyes.

She nodded and smiled up at him before reaching behind her and finished dressing his cut. She didn't ask what had happened and he gathered that she either already knew, or she didn't want to know. He could understand her not wanting to know; the slice was gruesome, from his hip right up to his rib cage, deep from where they'd expertly prodded about trying to find something to pull out. Her fingers hesitated once she'd pressed the clean white gauze down, her eyes fixed on his chest. He could sense her hesitancy to leave and he was glad that he wasn't the only one who didn't want her to move. He covered her hands with his once again, flattening them onto his stomach just above his waist band. She looked at him surprised at the intimacy of the gesture but she smiled and leaned her head into his chest for a moment.

"Caldwell's crew brought a couple of new movies with them; I have some on my computer."

He didn't need to elaborate on what he was implying. He felt her nod against his chest and pull back. He manoeuvred his arms into his shirt again and vowed that he'd where a button down from then until his shoulder was better.

When the movie began playing, the shifted on the bed, nervous at first because of what had happened _last time _they'd been there but it dissipated quickly. That wasn't what this was about. He turned to her and saw her sitting stiffly beside him, trying not to touch him. He lifted his arm tentatively and tucked her into his body. She complied easily, shifting so they were flush against one another. Her hand fell across his chest and John dipped his head so his cheek rested on her hair.

When he opened his eyes again, hours later, it was dark and he was alone.

And he was okay with that.

For a little while, at least.


End file.
